Some say love
by Wippydip
Summary: A few random one shots inspired by lyrics from the song "The Rose" by Westlife. It's about how different characters experience love.
1. River

_Some say love, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed._

"Evans! Hey, Evans!"

I put my head down and walked faster, ignoring the shout that was echoing down the annoyingly deserted corridor in the hope that he would go away. This tactic had never worked before so I can't say I was particularly surprised to hear the footsteps quicken and feel him grasp my arm.

"You do know it's rude to walk away from someone when they're trying to talk to you, don't you?"

I felt the familiar impatience and irritation stealing over me.

"And do you know it's rude to bellow at someone from the other end of a corridor, and when that subtle attempt to get their attention hadn't worked to then assault them?"

"I didn't assault you, I just touched your arm"

"_Grabbed _my arm."

"Oh why do you always do this, Evans?" He said, sounding frustrated, a slight frown on his face.

I glared at him, why does he think knows me?

"Are you calling me melodramatic?!"

"No, I just…" He seemed to realise he'd annoyed me, at last, and tried to change tack. "Look never mind that. I wanted to talk to you about something."

_Oh God, not again_ I thought. _Better try to head him off early._

"Yes I'd gathered that," I said dryly "but it's pointless continuing; I already know what you wanted to say, and what my answer will be." I said, in the futile hope he'd finally get the message.

"How can you, you don't do divination!" He said with his trademark Potter grin. I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. "I, however, do study the mystical art of _fore-telling the future_." He continued, catching up to me. "Do you want to know what I saw in my future Evans?"

"Not particularly" I replied in my best-uninterested tones.

"I saw us, Evans, in a little cottage, with a little black-haired baby boy."

Trying not to contemplate this revolting idea I took a sudden turn up a long, narrow flight of steps.

"So you see Lily, we're meant to be together!" He called, following me up the steps.

I halted in surprise. "Hang on, did you just call me Lily?" I asked, turning round.

"Yes." He said, almost defiantly. "As we're going to be married someday it doesn't seem too much of a presumption!"

"Urgh, _Potter_, the idea of marring you is so repulsive I think I may have to take a dreamless sleep potion tonight so I don't get nightmares." I said.

He flinched. Not, I think, because of my words, but more due to the undisguised venom in my voice.

"Oh come on Lily, why can't you just consider the possibility of going out with me?" His voice was almost pleading, his hazel eyes, level with mine due to his being on the step below me, were imploring; the soulful puppy look.

I didn't even need to think about the answer to that one.

"Because you're a foul, rude, arrogant, lazy, egotistical, ignorant prat, and I hate you. That's why." I spat at him. "So give up this pathetic, irritating little game, and leave me alone. Is that clear enough?"

The hurt in his eyes was obvious, the torment palpable, radiating from him.

"Why do you hate me so much Lily?" He asked, in a very small voice.

We stared at each other for a few seconds before I burst out.

"I lost my best friend because of you_,_ Potter, _you_ drove him away with your stupid, immature little ego trips. It was your merciless torments that put a wedge between us, and _then_ you try and tell me I'm better off without him, that you did it for my own good!? He was the first wizard I met, the first person who really understood me, he was there for me when my sister stopped talking to me, we were everything to each other, and _you_ ruined that Potter, since the first day on the Hogwarts Express you have been pushing us further apart."

I paused, my voice breaking. "And now he's going over to the Death Eaters. You did that, Potter."

I stopped for a moment, wiping away the tears that had started to fall without my consent.

"So you really need to ask why I hate you?" I finished, almost whispering.

"Lily…" He started, distress evident in his voice.

"And stop calling me Lily!" I shouted turning away and running up the steps. "You're not my friend!"

As I stumbled up the steps, blinded by the tears that just wouldn't stop, I heard him say:

"I love you, Lily."

My breath caught in my throat. I really didn't want to hear this. I wanted not to believe him, to think that his words were shallow and empty, as I have done since the beginning. But for a while now the truth has been too plain for me deny. Where did it come from, this unquestioning devotion? I never asked for it, or wanted it, what have I done to deserve it?

Nearly every girl in this school envies me, having that boy love me so deeply and so truly, but it is something I would gladly give away. I don't want the responsibility of holding his heart in my hands, I don't want to be the one to break him of his teenage idealism, but I will be. Because there is no way I could love him the way he loves me, no way I could love him at all. And one day he will realize this and it will break his heart.

But until then he showers me with attention, with his passion and his dedication. He deluges me with adoration and swamps me with reverence. His feelings are like a river, swollen with meltwater, a torrent, rushing towards me, unstoppable, unendurable. And as happens so often these days, I feel like I am drowning in his love.


	2. Razor

_Some say love, it is a razor, that leaves your soul to bleed._

Severus Snape liked being alone.

Here he was, taking a solitary stroll around the lake, free from the inane chatter and self-obsessed drama that pervaded the entire castle. Alone he was free to think, to be who he wanted to be, with no ones expectations to abide by. He didn't have to degrade himself by deferring to people whose talent and intelligence was far outstripped by his own.

In short it was a blessed relief to escape from the demands of company and be by himself for a while.

Until suddenly, a clear, light, tuneful laugh burst in on his reflections from further up the path, blocked by view by an outcrop of rocks.

He stiffened. He knew that laugh, which rang sweetly in his ears as the melody of joy. He had spent summer after summer doing everything he could to draw her into laughter, so he could bask in the sound. He hadn't heard it in a long time, and hadn't realized how much he missed it. He knew he should leave but he couldn't resist a glimpse of the siren whose merriment bewitched him. He approached the rocks cautiously and found a crack to look through. He held his breath in anticipation as her put his eye to the slit.

What he saw made him take a quick intake of breath in surprise. There was Lily, as he had known since he had heard the outbreak of mirth, but the cause of such joy wasn't the group of girls from her dormitory as he had expected. No there was just one person with her, and that person was the most unlikely person ever; James Potter.

Why did Potter have his arm around her waist?

Why was he whispering in her ear?

And why she was smiling and laughing?

Why wasn't she getting angry and shouting at him and jinxing him to hell?

Why did she just take his hand in hers?

Severus stared, horror slowly taking the place of disbelief. He'd heard rumours about them being together, but there had been rumours since third year and none of them had any truth to them. The urge to jump out and hex Potter to oblivion for having his hands all over Lily, _his_ Lily, was coursing through him, but something held him rooted to the spot, paralysed with nausea.

Then Potter stopped whispering, and Lily turned her head to look at him. They gazed into each others eyes for a few seconds, then Potter's head started to move towards Lily's. Severus's eyes widened in shock, he knew what was going to happen next. His grip on the rock tightened, each breath came shallow and quick, panic threatened to overwhelm him but he remained in place, eye glued to the crack.

Then their lips met, and he felt his heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. An aching torment filled him, so strong he wanted to run from the spot and never stop, and punch a tree with his bare hands until it fell. The rock in his hand crumbled from the pressure of his grip and he tore his gaze away from the couple, gulping back his tears in silence, jealousy, anger and misery battling for control. He should be the one there, kissing her so passionately and so deeply that the rest of the world ceased to exist, losing themselves in each other. But he wasn't. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, the pain was so unbridled it was disorientating him, numbing his senses.

In that one instant all of his subconscious hopes and desires were crushed into dust. Potter had Lily now, that was it, there was no longer a chance, slim as it had been, that one day she would be his. And as his delusions fell away, stripped by his inner apocalypse, the future had never looked so bleak.

In desperation he turned back to the crack, with the vague idea that even now Lily was pushing Potter off her, and asking him just what he was playing at. But she wasn't. They had shifted so Potter was facing away from him, and Lily's face was in full view. The expression on her face as they finally parted was one he had seen only once before, when she told him she had her Hogwart's Letter, and it was one that would stay with him forever. It was an expression of complete happiness, when the heart has fulfilled it's ultimate desire, and it lit up her features, changing them from beautiful to breathtaking, entrancing. The pieces of his shattered heart were pierced by white hot needles, as he realised, somewhere deep inside him, that he could never make her that happy, which was how she deserved to be, and although his wand was ready in his hand, he couldn't bring himself to destroy her moment of perfect bliss.

Rage against the world ignited within him, fueled by the futility of his feelings, and the knowledge that she was the only one he would ever love.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, with his back against the rock, engulfed with loneliness and desolation. Long after the lovers had departed, certainly. Time was marked only by the passing of tears down his cheeks, and the slicing of his soul with every memory.

He no longer enjoyed his solitude, or reveled in his superiority over the rest of humankind, but longed for her company, her laughter, her comfort, her kindness.

When he finally left the rocks and trudged back to the castle, it was with the knowledge that the best part of his life was over, that without her, the rest of his life would be nothing more than heartache and cruelty. He had made up his mind, accepted his fate. A Death Eater he would be.


End file.
